13. Boone
BOONE
The bar's neon sign was still off.
I'd driven the twenty minutes from the house to Nashville, texted Tuck to cancel tomorrow's session, and ignored two calls from my mother.
The ring sat in my pocket like an accusation.
I stood outside Dee's place staring at the door, trying to get my breathing under control.
My hands were shaking. I shoved them in my pockets and felt the cool metal of the ring press against my knuckles.
Carly was in there. She had to be.
I'd tried calling her six times on the drive down.
Every call went straight to voicemail. I'd left one message, then deleted it and called back to leave another one.
That one was worse. By the third try I'd given up and just driven, my foot heavy on the gas, my mind racing through everything I could remember from the past week.
Had I missed something? Said something? Done something?
I came up empty every time.
I pulled the door open and stepped inside.
The smell hit me first — stale beer, old wood, something fried from the kitchen.
A handful of people sat scattered around the room at tables that had seen better days.
Nobody looked up. The jukebox in the corner was playing something low and twangy that I didn't recognize.
Dee came out from behind the bar before I'd taken three steps.
She planted herself in front of me, arms crossed over her chest. Her expression could've frozen hell over. "No."
"I need to see Carly."
"She doesn't want to see you."
I felt my jaw tighten. My pulse kicked up and I forced myself to breathe. "She's my wife."
"That why she's sleeping on my couch?" Dee didn't move.
Her voice was flat, the kind of flat that meant she'd already made up her mind and nothing I said was going to change it.
She was a good six inches shorter than me but she stood there like she was ready to throw me out bodily if I tried to push past her. "Turn around, Boone."
"I just need five minutes."
"You need to leave."
My ribs felt too small for my lungs. I realized I was holding my breath and forced myself to let it out.
This was ridiculous. I'd come all this way and Dee was going to block me at the door like I was some drunk she was throwing out?
Like I was a stranger and not the guy who'd known Carly for ten years?
"Dee, please." I heard the edge in my voice and hated it. "Whatever's going on, I can fix it. I just need to talk to her."
Dee's expression didn't shift. "She doesn't want to talk to you."
"Then let her tell me that herself."
For a second I thought she was going to physically shove me back out the door. Her weight shifted forward and her hands dropped to her sides. Then I heard Carly's voice from somewhere behind her, quiet and steady.
"It's fine, Dee."
Dee turned her head but didn't step aside. "You don't have to do this."
"I know."
Carly came around the bar and walked toward us.
She moved slowly, like she was tired, or like she didn't particularly want to get there.
She stopped next to Dee, her arms wrapped around herself like she was cold even though the bar was warm and stuffy.
She looked tired. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wasn't wearing any makeup.
There were shadows under her eyes. She looked like she had when we'd first met, back when she'd worked here and I'd come in to play open mic nights for twenty bucks and free drinks.
God, that felt like a lifetime ago.
She met my eyes and I couldn't read her face at all. No anger. No hurt. Nothing. It was like looking at a stranger. My stomach twisted.
"Hey," I said.
"Hey."
I wanted to reach for her. My hand actually lifted before I stopped myself. She didn't move. Didn't lean toward me. Didn't step back. Just stood there with her arms wrapped around herself, waiting.
"Can we talk?"
"We're talking."
"I mean somewhere private."
"Here's fine."
Dee was still standing there like a guard dog, her shoulder almost touching Carly's. I looked at Carly, trying to find something in her expression that would tell me what the hell was happening. What I'd done. What had gone so wrong that she'd packed a bag and walked out without a word.
She just stared back at me, waiting.
Okay. Fine. If she wanted to do this here, we'd do it here.
"I don't know what I did," I said. The words came out rougher than I meant them to. My throat felt raw. "But whatever it is, I can fix it. Just tell me what's wrong."
"What do you think is wrong?"
The question caught me off guard. I felt heat crawl up the back of my neck. "If I knew that, I wouldn't be asking."
She didn't say anything. Just kept looking at me with that blank expression that made my stomach twist and my hands clench into fists at my sides.
I thought about the house. About coming home this morning and finding it empty. Her car gone. Her dresser drawers half-empty. The silence so loud it made my ears ring.
"Carly, come on. You left the house. You left your ring." I pulled it out of my pocket and held it up. The silver caught the dim light from the bar's overhead fixtures. Both our names were engraved on the inside, along with the date. I'd had it made special. "You want to tell me what that's about?"
Her eyes flicked to the ring, then back to my face. Still nothing.
Jesus. It was like talking to a wall.
"I know things have been busy," I tried again. My throat felt tight and I had to push the words out. "The tour, the album — I know I haven't been around as much as I should be. But that's the business, you know that. You've always understood that. It doesn't mean anything."
"Doesn't it."
It wasn't a question. Her voice was quiet and even and it made something in my chest clench. I felt my pulse hammer against my ribs.
"No. It doesn't." I took a step closer. Dee shifted but Carly put a hand on her arm.
The gesture was small but it stopped Dee cold.
I wondered when that had happened. When Carly had learned to stand her ground like that.
"Carly, listen to me. Whatever you think is going on, you're wrong.
There's nothing — nothing — more important to me than you. Than us."
"What do you think I need, Boone?"
I stared at her. "What?"
"You said you can fix it. So what do you think I need?"
My mind went blank. I felt like I was taking a test I hadn't studied for, standing there in front of the class while the teacher waited for an answer I didn't have. What did she need? She needed — what? To know I loved her? To know the marriage was solid?
No. That wasn't it. She knew that already. Didn't she?
I thought about the ring sitting in my palm. About her leaving it on the mixing board like it was trash. About her packing her things and walking out without telling me where she was going or why.
I thought about the way my mother had talked to her at that dinner last month, the way Emily always dismissed her like she wasn't worth noticing, the way Savannah kept showing up everywhere like she belonged there. At the studio. At the label events. At my side when Carly stayed home.
Oh.
Oh.
"Your name," I said. The words came out in a rush, like I'd finally figured out the right answer and if I said it fast enough she'd nod and smile and tell me I'd got it.
"On the albums. You should get credit. You've been writing with me for ten years and nobody knows it. That's — that's wrong. I can fix that."
Something flickered across her face. Too fast for me to catch.
"I'll put your name on everything going forward," I said.
I was talking faster now, the solution clicking into place in my head like the last piece of a puzzle.
"Every song. Co-writer credit, production credit, whatever you want.
Hell, I'll call Merritt today. And I can talk to him about getting you a record deal in your own name.
You've got songs, I know you do. The ones in the back of the notebook, the ones you won't let me touch.
We can make you a solo album. Get you out from behind the board and into the spotlight where you belong. "
I waited. She had to see it. This was the answer. This was what she needed. Recognition. Credit. Her own career instead of being stuck in mine.
She looked at me for a long moment. Her expression didn't change. Then she shook her head, slow and deliberate.
"No."
The word hit me like a slap. I actually flinched.
"What do you mean, no?"
"I mean no, Boone. I don't want that."
I felt my hands clench into fists. The ring bit into my palm. "You don't want your name on the work you've done? You don't want people to know the songs are yours too?"
"That's not what I said."
"Then what are you saying?" My voice came out louder than I meant it to. Somebody at one of the tables looked over. I didn't care. "I'm offering you everything. Your name. Your own career. A record deal with the biggest label in Nashville. What else could you possibly want?"
She just looked at me. That same blank expression that made me want to shake her.
"Carly." I could hear the edge of desperation in my voice now and I hated it. I sounded like I was begging. I was begging. "Please. Just tell me what you want. Tell me what I did wrong. I'll fix it. Whatever it is, I swear to God I'll fix it."
"I can't tell you."
"Why the hell not?"
"Because you should already know."
The words landed in my chest like a stone. I stared at her, my throat tight, my hands shaking. She looked small standing there next to Dee, her arms still wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold herself together. But her voice was steady. Her eyes were steady.
Ugh. I felt like I was drowning and she was standing on the shore watching me go under.
"That's not fair," I said. My voice came out hoarse.
"Neither is this."
"So what, you're just going to leave? Walk away from ten years like it meant nothing?"
"I didn't say that."
"Then what are you saying?" I wanted to grab her shoulders, shake her until she started making sense, until she stopped looking at me like I was a stranger she was politely trying to get rid of.
I shoved my hands in my pockets instead.
Felt the ring press against my palm, hard and cold.
"Carly, I love you. That's not — that's never been a question. You know that. You have to know that."
"Do I?"
God, I was so far out of my depth I couldn't see the bottom anymore. Every word out of my mouth seemed to be the wrong one. Every answer I gave her just made her face go blanker, made her pull further away even though she hadn't moved an inch.
I didn't know what else to try. I was throwing everything I had at her and it was bouncing off like she was made of stone.
"Please," I said again. My voice cracked on the word. I sounded pathetic. I didn't care. "Just come home. We can figure this out. Whatever it is, we can sit down and talk about it and fix it together. That's what we do, right? We fix things together."
She shook her head.
"I need you to leave, Boone."
The words felt like a door slamming shut.
I stood there staring at her, trying to find something to say that would make her take it back.
Something that would make her look at me like she used to.
My mind was empty. My chest hurt. I realized my eyes were stinging and I looked down at the floor before she could see.
"Carly—"
"Please."
Her voice was so quiet I almost didn't hear it.
I looked up. She still had her arms wrapped around herself. Dee had moved closer, her shoulder pressed against Carly's now. The two of them standing there together like a wall I couldn't get through, like I was the enemy and Dee was the only thing standing between me and my own wife.
I felt something crack open in my chest. Something that hurt so bad I couldn't breathe around it.
"Okay," I said.
I didn't recognize my own voice. It sounded like it was coming from a long way off.
I turned around and walked to the door. My legs felt like somebody else's. The ring was still in my pocket, heavy and cold against my leg. I pushed the door open and stepped out into the parking lot. The heat hit me like a wall. The air was thick and still and it smelled like asphalt and exhaust.
The door swung shut behind me.
I stood there in the heat, breathing hard, staring at nothing. The neon sign above my head buzzed but didn't light up. Somewhere down the street a car alarm went off and then stopped. Traffic moved past on the main road. The world kept going like nothing had happened.
Carly didn't follow me out.